


Never Go Back

by Tashilover



Category: Endeavour
Genre: Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: After a night of drunken passion, Morse and Thursday wonder if they can continue on as normal.





	1. Chapter 1

Looking back, Thursday didn't know how he got to this point. He didn't allow himself to get drunk. He's seen too many men lose their battle with alcoholism, arrested far too many people for driving under the influence. Win also didn't like seeing him drunk. It put her on edge.

Thursday only allowed himself a single pint, and depending on the mood he was in, a shot of whiskey. No more than that.

But tonight they were celebrating. Marcus Dulaney, a thief, a murderer, an arsonist, and all around bastard was finally convicted and sentenced today. He'd been avoiding imprisonment for years due to his father's money and influence, and for a while it looked like Thursday was never going to nab the little shite.

And then came along Morse.

Thursday didn't know how he did it, but the boy tracked down Dulaney's financial records, went through all three hundred and seventy pages of information, and proved without a doubt that Dulaney had not been paying his taxes for the past ten years.

When Morse presented this evidence to Thursday, he had hugged the boy in front of everyone. It was a brief, one second hug (no need to embarrass him in front of the other men). Thursday was so goddamn proud.

It wasn't the conviction Thursday wanted, but at least Dulaney was off the streets and behind bars. Honestly in a world like this, it was the best he could ask for. As a show of appreciation, he brought Jakes and Morse over to the nearest pub and bought them drinks.

This was his first mistake. It was the atmosphere, the giddiness, the surrounding company that spurred Thursday on to forget about his two drink rule. Jakes never passed on a free drink and Morse certainly wouldn't say no to another drink if offered. Thursday, not wishing to be outclasses by these two youngsters, followed suit.

His second mistake was letting Jakes go off on his own. Jakes spotted a pretty girl he wanted to chat up, and he took his fourth drink and wandered over. Thursday encouraged this, if only to see if Jakes could really woo a girl while half-pissed. He always wanted his men to have fun if able. The job took a heavy toll, and Thursday knew better than anyone if those dark thoughts weren't freed, it could drag you down.

His last mistake was not calling a cab to drop him off at the house. Instead, he and Morse stumbled into the night, leaning on each other for support, giggling drunkenly like a pair of idiots.

In an alleyway between a closed bakery and a general store, Thursday had pushed Morse up against the wall, his hands slipping beneath Morse's jacket, kissing him fiercely.

In a moment of panic Thursday feared that this was something Morse didn't want, that he was hurting him. He pulled back gasping, his lips already bruised and wet, and was wonderfully pleased to find Morse leaning up to follow him, his hands grabbing at Thursday's tie to drag him back down.

In his lifetime Thursday has snogged in a number of unusual spaces. In the middle of the football field of his school, in a graveyard, and once in a abandoned car he found on the side of the road. This was the first time he's ever been in a alleyway. Was that an accomplishment? He was going to take it as one.

There were no words spoken between them, just murmuring noises of agreement. Thursday didn't remember who made the first move to move this snog fest into a dual hand job, but he remembered it was Morse who finished first.

Morse was beautiful when he came. This was a man who clearly didn't get enough in life, and watching him receive such pleasure was a gift to watch. He needed this, he deserved this, and Thursday was more than happy to provide. He bent down and kissed Morse in the middle of his bliss, and with his free hand, stroked himself to completion. He was pressed up right against Morse's exposed belly, and he reveled in the feel of his come splattering across Morse's stomach and watching it slide down.

"You're beautiful," Thursday gasped.

Morse responded by kissing him again and again, smiling as he did so.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday came to consciousness slowly.

He didn't open his eyes immediately and didn't want to. He was so warm, so sleepy, he could've easily nodded right back off within a second. Everything felt so good, he was content to lie there forever. He was curled around Win's warm body, held her close, his nose buried in the back of her neck, breathing in scent of her hair and skin. Thursday's lips twitched and he gently kissed her neck and shuffled closer to her, sighing in contentment.

Except there was a pea in the mattress that prevented him from dozing off again. When Thursday pulled Win close like this, his hand always cupped one of her breasts. It was second nature, and there was no breast currently in his hand. It felt so wrong. Sleepily, Thursday pulled his arm closer, expecting to feel a soft nipple and the sloop of a breast.

The tips of his fingers found the nipple. He idly played with it for a few seconds, relishing the feel of it hardening under his touch.

Suddenly Win flung herself away from him, startling him out of his light doze.

"What?" Thursday said, sitting up quickly. He roughly ran a hand over his face. "What? What's going on?"

He blinked and saw Morse on the floor, the blankets tangled around his legs. He was looking up at Thursday in stark horror.

Oh.

Oh god.

"Morse-" Thursday started.

Morse scrambled, grabbing the blanket around him and got to his feet, pulling it around his naked body. Without another word he went to the bathroom and closed the door behind with a slam.

Thursday cupped a hand around his mouth.

He was in Morse's flat, in his bedroom. The last time Thursday was here was three months ago when he brought Morse home after he tripped and nearly twisted his knee. Not much had changed since then. Morse's closet was filled with his work suits. A single chair sitting by the bedroom door carried all of his ties. Morse's books and records were near his bed, in arm's reach.

Thursday's clothes were sitting in a heap right below them.

Slowly he stood up from the bed. He stared down at his naked form. His chest and arms was riddled with hickeys. On his shoulder was a distinctive bite mark. It was red and it ached as Thursday gently prodded it.

On the floor were two used condoms. Thursday cringed when he saw them.

He dressed and then padded over to the bathroom. He knocked. "Morse," he said. "I'm... I'm going to the kitchen. You'll have your privacy."

There was no answer from the other side of the door. Thursday didn't expect one.

He walked out of Morse's bedroom, closing the door behind him with deliberate movement.

Suddenly he collapsed to the floor in a heap. Both of his hands were around his mouth, stopping the scream that threatened to explode out of him. Great thick tears ran down his cheeks. What had he done? Oh lord, what had he done?

His world was crashing down upon him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Through the haze the memories were clear enough to confirm Thursday had not raped Morse, but that barely made it better. It didn't change not a damn thing. He'd _fucked_ his bagman.

What of Win? What was Thursday going to tell her? That he slept with his subordinate? Thursday had brought Morse into their home, had him for dinner, and Win accepted him, asked after him, even going so far in knitting him a pair of socks for Christmas. This wasn't some random affair; Morse was practically family. This could kill Win.

A terrible headache pounded Thursday's head. He wiped away his tears and forced himself to his feet. He was desperately thirsty and hungry. Before he could think about food, he needed to call Win.

She picked up on the second ring. " _Fred, please tell me that's you_."

"It's me," he said.

" _Oh, good lord, Fred! I was going out of my mind when you didn't come home last night! Where are you?"_

"I'm at Morse's. We... ah... had too much to drink last night-"

" _So you've been with Morse this whole time? I should've expected it. Now tell me, are both of you safe?"_

"Yes, but-"

" _Good. I am not going to yell at you over the phone, Fred. I am too worried for that. But I am also too angry to speak to you now. So come home and we can talk then_."

She hanged up on him.

Thursday quietly put the phone back on the receiver. The burden on his back felt heavier than before.

Behind him the door to the bedroom opened. Thursday turned around to see Morse fully dressed, looking worn. "I..."

"Did I hurt you?" Thursday asked suddenly.

"What?" Morse startled. "No, I'm not. Why would you think-"

 _Because it doesn't feel like I was the one who was fucked_ , Thursday didn't say. "Did I force you?"

"NO. I remember... I remember a great deal of the night. It was consensual on both ends."

"Drunk doesn't equal consent, Morse. No matter how many men think that."

Morse flinched. "Did I... do you believe I-"

"No. No, I... no. What happened last night was clearly a mistake."

"...so what do we do now?"

Thursday could barely look at him. He thought about what was going to happen when he came home. If by some miracle Win decided not to leave him, would she ever look at him in the same way again? They talked about moving to a smaller town after Fred retired, after the kids moved out. Some place nice and quiet to live out their senior years.

Thursday looked down at his hands. His old, spotted hands. "We... treat it like it is: a mistake. No need to dwell on it longer. Live and learn."

"Live and learn," Morse repeated. "Yeah. I... yes, that's for the best."

"Right." Thursday turned to the door. "I'll see you Monday, Morse."

"Yes, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sleep with a pillow between my knees. If there isn't one, my subconscious will force me to wake up to get one. So I understand Thursday's frustration when your body needs to curl around something. =3


End file.
